


Fourth of July

by RhinoHill



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: #vss365, F/M, First Kiss, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 13:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhinoHill/pseuds/RhinoHill
Summary: "Happy Independence Day, guys!" I say, brandishing a slightly soggy packet of marshmallows, a slab of Hershey's and a pretty well preserved packet of crackers, considering they've been bouncing around on my bum for three days now."S'mores?" Daniel sounds as if I've just unearthed a trove of ancient knowledge. "Oh, Teal'c, you've GOT to experience these."I smile as I hand him the pack and he gets busy organising skewers and explaining the history of S'mores to the - other - alien on this planet. Maybe he said nothing before because he's also been missing home. It has to be even harder for him. He has two loves out there somewhere. Being without them must leave him hollow on days like this.Without meaning to, I glance over at you. You - the reason I feel lonelier on earth than off-world, when I only have to share you with three other people and the sky. Clear hazel eyes are watching me, as they so often are.--oOo--





	Fourth of July

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConnieN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConnieN/gifts).



> The introduction - Jack - was written as a tweet-length poem for the July 4th #vss365 prompt #liberty.
> 
> And I couldn't resist an Independence Day gift for my AO3 tribe.
> 
> You make the world better by being in it.  
> xo

_Jack_

My love 

We have both held too many guns to want more bangs tonight. 

Instead, I weave sweet jasmine into your hair. 

One star-shaped flower for courage, 

one for liberty

and 48 for joy and peaceful dreams. 

I wrap you in a wreath of stars. 

Then 

You kiss me.

Fireworks.

\--oOo--

_ Sam _

In four years at the SGC, it's the first time we've been off-world on the 4th of July. 

Not that I mind not being home. Teal'c and Daniel and, and _you_ , have become my family anyway. I relax when I'm with my team. You know me and you don't try to turn me into a bimbo, or a housewife, or anything else that I can't bear to be.

But I felt a little tug of regret when I was packing for this mission, at missing the familiar, happy ritual of it all. The bonfire, the slow walks after eating too much barbecue on a slow summer's evening, the taste of s'mores, the fireworks. 

No-one mentioned the date until we finished supper and I ducked into my tent and brought out the tin I'd kept carefully at the bottom of my backpack.

"Happy Independence Day, guys!" I say, brandishing a slightly soggy packet of marshmallows, a slab of Hershey's and a pretty well preserved packet of crackers, considering they've been bouncing around on my bum for three days now.

"S'mores?" Daniel sounds as if I've just unearthed a trove of ancient knowledge. "Oh, Teal'c, you've GOT to experience these."

I smile as I hand him the pack and he gets busy organising skewers and explaining the history of S'mores to the - other - alien on this planet. Maybe he said nothing before because he's also been missing home. It has to be even harder for him. He has two loves out there somewhere. Being without them must leave him hollow on days like this.

Without meaning to, I glance over at you. You - the reason I feel lonelier on earth than off-world, when I only have to share you with three other people and the sky. Clear hazel eyes are watching me, as they so often are.

"First one's for you, Sam, for thinking of this." 

With a grin, I take the s'more from him and close my eyes to savour the warm, sweet, smoky crunch.

When the crackers run out, we just roast marshmallows over the fire and eat them straight from the skewer. Then I open the tin again.

"I know we're not at home," - I glance at Teal'c - "on earth," I correct myself, "so we can't do the whole thing, But I got you each a little 4th of July gift."

Three sets of eyes look at me in the firelight.

"For you, Teal'c." I lift a red and white striped hat-band with a star-spangled bow out of the tin. "An all-American addition to your hat."

"Daniel, it's not original, but it's an authentic replica," I lift a quill-pen out of the tin. "Apparently this is what the founding fathers used to sign the declaration of independence."

Finally, I turn to you. "Sir." I hesitate. "You're a little hard to buy things for." 

The camp stills. Two pairs of eyes watch me curiously, while you pull at the edges of your boots. 

"But I thought you could think of tonight when you go fishing?" My voice feels tight in my chest as I hand you a fishing lure in royal blue, snow white and scarlet.

Our hands connect as you take the lure from me. 

With an exaggerated stretch, Daniel yawns. "Well, campers, I'm off to bed," he announces.

"Indeed," Teal'c follows. "I shall see you in the morning. Good night, Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter. And thank you for the memory." He touches the hat band softly to his chest and turns towards his tent.

You stand up, too, and my heart tugs at a moment lost.

"You provided dessert, Carter," you say, deadpan. "I'll take first perimeter check for you."

The planet grows silent around me. A silence I've grown to cherish. No cars, no shouts, no sirens. Only half-familiar bugs singing to the moon. I'm sat on the ground, back against a fallen log, knees pulled up in front of me, when I hear returning footsteps. 

I turn to see you carrying the scent I sensed on the wind. Almost Jasmine. A cluster of star-shaped white flowers and leathery dark green leaves greet me from your hand. 

"So, Carter," you speak as I twist on the ground to face you, "tonight was missing one last thing." You hold the blossoms above your head. "Mistletoe," you say.

I take you in. Tanned arms, muscles coiling into your shirt, light stubble, hair I want to feel under my fingertips. "Mistletoe's for Christmas, sir."

I kick myself as I I utter the stupid, pedantic words.

"Ah.". Your hazel eyes lock onto mine, more amused than disappointed. "Must be just a Minessota thing, then."

I look down at the ground. An hour ago, this seemed to be the place I belonged most. Now I want to run away and hide.

"Well, I've got fifty flowers here," your voice breaks through my dread. "At least let me braid them into your hair. You can be the Independence queen of P3X54."

You settle on the fallen trunk behind me. My knees pull back up to my chest, unsure how to protect my heart. Your legs expand around me. My fortress of thigh and shin and calf. "Hold these, would you?" You press fifty star-shaped blossoms into my outstretched palm.

Your fingers touch my scalp, and I stiffen. Slowly, your hands tease out my knots of loneliness, my tight bands of unsease. By the time you pull three strands of hair into a braid, I've let you know the secrets of my skull. Your fingers tug and weave, a give and take of knowing. One by one, you pick blossoms out of my palm and my head melts sideways into the reassuring presence of your leg.

A small, panicked voice shouts shrilly at me. " _He's your commanding officer! If you let him touch you in this way, you'll never be able to keep control! Think of your future! Think of your career!_ "

The strange thing is that I normally listen. But as your fingers weave flowers into the soft hair at the base of my neck, I don't even try to hide the goosebumps that your touch raises.

Without warning, tears flood my eyes. My mother used to braid my hair. My breath heaves with the effort of controlling my memories.

A soft hand descends onto my shoulder. "You okay?" you whisper. "I can stop."

With a garbled sob, I nod, then shake my head. I can feel your hesitation. Time stands still. I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. When I let it out, I allow the last wall around my heart to fall. I shake the last three flowers into my left hand and wrap my right arm around your right leg, leaning my face into the crook of you knee. I know you can feel my tears through the fabric of your trousers. I know that you won't mind.

Your hand strokes my head, my shoulders, my back, until my grief subsides. Slowly, as if you'd noticed nothing, you pick another flower out of my left palm, and continue braiding.

In the firelight of 4th July, my eyes open. Resting against the leg of the man I love. Through the sadness, my heart soars like a roman candle.

When you reach for the last flower, I cup it in my palm and pull away. 

"Uh uh," my voice is thick around my tears, but I press on anyway.

I turn, and kneel up to face you.

"Save one for Minnessota," I say before my lips find yours.

With a shudder, you pull me close. Your tongue teases at my lips, then delves in deep to find me. You taste of leather and of fire-burnt marshmallow. You taste of home.

Slowly, you pull away.

Hazel eyes look at me, as they so often do.

"And _that's_ what we were missing," you whisper against my cheek. 

"Fireworks."

**Author's Note:**

> PS. I'm from South Africa and I have NO IDEA if the s'mores recipe Sam uses is even vaguely correct. If it's wrong, take pity on me and teach me how to make proper S'mores when I finally make it to America and meet you IRL some day!
> 
> xo
> 
> PPS: I just roast marshmallows and dip them in rose wine. Sounds disgusting, tastes AMAZING.  
> Do you want to arm wrestle me on this? ;-)
> 
> PPPS: I've just revealed the reason I spell English properly (with u after o). It'll keep happening. Get used to it, unicorns!


End file.
